Painted Black
by Jarlaxle Baenre
Summary: One shot... Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime which he did not committ. Read as the tale of that one fateful Hallow's Eve unfolds...Please R&R!


All it was now was shambles. Smoke billowed from the wreckage, drifting up to be lost in the night sky, obscuring the stars. The Muggles on either side of the house didn't know anything had happened, completely oblivious to everything.

Sirius Black fought back the tears as his flying motorcycle drew nearer to the village where his best friend lived. _It can't be,_ he thought hysterically, _no, they're still alive. Please, God, let them still be alive. _

How could he have done this? It was all his fault! He had thought Remus was the spy, as crazy as it seemed, but no...It had been on his advice that they had changed Secret-Keepers. Because of his blunder, James and Lily…

Okay, he wasn't about to take all the blame. At least a little bit of it lay with Peter.

_Peter._ Peter Pettigrew, traitor, liar, Death Eater. _Curse you, Peter, curse you. _

_And you, Sirius. How could you have let this happen?_

And now they were gone.

His last visit had been barely a week ago. He had lingered longer than he should have, but he couldn't resist. They had been talking, reminiscing about old times, discussing everything. Harry had toddled in, gurgling happily, getting right back up and trying again when he fell. They had been so happy together. They hadn't expected to die.

But they hadn't thought that they would be betrayed.

He was coming from Peter's house. He had gone to check on him, to make sure he was still safe. But Peter hadn't been there, and there had been no sign of a struggle. Sirius had known without being told what had happened. No, Remus had not been Voldemort's helper.

_How could you, Sirius, how could you?_

The trees around the house were too dense to get through, so he headed for the nearest street. His motorbike landed with a dull thud on the pavement. Leaping off of it, he ran as fast as his long legs would carry him through the trees to where the house was.

Or where the house had been.

A sob tore itself from his throat as he stopped short. "No," he muttered, "No, please, no!"

He lunged forward to the smoking remains of the Potter's home, and then halted. There was a giant, black figure emerging slowly from the wreckage, holding a little bundle. The bundle was screaming.

"Harry," he breathed. "He's alive."

He sprinted to where the giant stood, rocking the toddler, leaping over and around the debris.

There in the giant's arms was a baby: kicking, screaming, and twisting to get away, but very much alive.

Sirius looked up at the giant as he caressed the infant's face. Harry calmed at his touch. "Let me take him, Hagrid. Let me raise him. I'm his godfather." He gazed sadly at the gash in the shape of a lightning bolt across the baby's forehead. _How did he survive?_

Hagrid shook his tangled mane of black hair, tears leaking out of his eyes. "Nah, Sirius. No can do. Dumbledore said ter bring 'im, and I thin' Dumbledore knows wha's best."

Sirius gazed at him for several long moments, then backed down. "Aye. Dumbledore knows best." He was silent for a moment before he swallowed a lump in his throat and asked, "Lily, James…?"

Hagrid burst into sobs, making the tiny Harry start bawling again. Sirius tried to comfort him, but his heart sank. Hagrid's reaction had been answer enough.

They were dead, and now there was no denying it.

_Oh, Sirius, Sirius, what have you done?_

The tears were pouring openly down his face now. He kissed Harry on the brow, tasting the child's blood, and backed away. "Take my bike, Hagrid. You need it more than I do. It's parked on the street."

"Bu' you love that bike," Hagrid protested.

"Take it!" Sirius almost shouted, his voice breaking. "Take it, take it!"

The tears had broken into his voice and he was sobbing uncontrollably. He sank to the ground, his face in his hands, weeping openly. "Go, Hagrid. Take Harry to Dumbledore."

He didn't look at the giant as he left. A few minutes later, he heard the bike's engine roar. It soared away overhead, leaving silence in its wake.

_They're dead, Sirius, you fool, and it's all your fault. _

Sirius left Godric's Hollow then. He didn't want to see his friends' bodies. He couldn't see them. It would devastate him.

He needed somewhere to go. He had abandoned his parents years ago, and he didn't want to see Dumbledore now. He ran as far as he could, until dawn was beginning to break, before he collapsed in the midst of the trees.

It was late afternoon when he awoke. His clothes were torn in several places and his hair was full of pine needles and twigs. But he didn't care. He started walking. He didn't want to be with anyone.

But there was someone he had an obligation to tell.

Half an hour later, he was back in London, walking swiftly along the streets with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. Muggles walked past him, laughing and joking. How can they laugh after what's just happened?

_How could this have happened? Didn't you love them?_

He was almost to the home of Remus Lupin when something occurred to him.

Sirius had advised James and Lily to change Secret Keepers at the very last moment, from him to Peter, without telling anyone. The only way that Voldemort could have found them was if the Secret Keeper betrayed them. And everyone thought that he, Sirius Black, was their Secret Keeper.

_They'll think I betrayed them. They didn't know Peter was the Secret Keeper. Peter, you filthy, traitorous piece of vermin, how could you have done this?_

What about Remus? Would he believe his story?

Hesitantly, he knocked on the door of the apartment he had visited so many times. There was a shuffling inside, and the door cracked open.

Remus looked sick, even though it wasn't anywhere near the full moon. His eyes were red and his face tear-streaked.

His eyes registered first shock, then a cold, loathing anger. "Sirius," he said softly.

Without warning, Remus raised his wand and thick, heavy cords shot out of the tip and wrapped tightly around Sirius' body. Off balance, he fell hard to the ground, bruising his shoulder.

Remus stepped out over him. "What have you done, Sirius?"

_What have you done, Sirius?_

His eyes were full of grief and disbelieving. "I never suspected… it never even crossed my mind…" His voice was strained and hoarse, like he was on the verge of tears again.

"Please, Remus, I didn't, it wasn't—"

The cords tightened, and one found its way into Sirius' mouth, gagging him.

"You deserve worse than death for what you did, but I'm not the one to administer it. I'm going to go contact the Ministry."

Remus disappeared inside.

Remus must have really been emotionally unstable because not only had he left a suspected murderer unattended, but he had forgotten one of his former best friend's talents.

Sirius concentrated hard, and his body changed into that of a huge, black dog. Though he really wasn't any smaller than his usual self, his teeth were not exactly dull.

Three or four bites had him through the ropes that bound him. He remained a dog; dogs can run faster than any human.

He ran for two miles, perhaps, before he turned a corner and found himself at a dead end. He was about to turn around and continue his flight, but there was a loud _crack,_ and a short, balding man appeared before him.

Sirius changed back to a human and slowly righted himself, breathing hard, his wand out.

"Peter." _Peter, you traitor, you filthy, lying, hypocritical…_

"Hello, Sirius," he said, smiling slightly, his wand pointed straight at Sirius' chest.

Before Sirius had a chance to kill him, seven other wizards appeared in the entrance to the alleyway.

Peter's transition was perfect. His wand was back in his pocket, and began sobbing before Sirius could blink. "Lily and James, Sirius, how could you?"

Peter had his wand in his hand, but he fumbled it. Sirius was the only one who could see his self-satisfied smirk before he disappeared.

And before the alley blew up.

Sirius was knocked unconscious. He was informed later that the fire Peter had sent into the sidewalk had reached a gas line, which went out under the nearby street. Twelve Muggles were killed in the blast. Of course, everyone thought it had been him who had conjured the fire.

To him, the answer was glaringly obvious. Peter had blown up the street, and then he transformed into a rat, fleeing into the sewers afterward. To the Ministry, it looked like Sirius blown Peter into a million pieces, along with the street. He had been framed.

His hands were bound behind him when he came to his senses. His wand was gone; he could see it, lying snapped in half on the pavement about ten feet away. His head hurt like crazy.

"Sirius Black," came a voice from somewhere above him, "you are under arrest on thirteen counts of murder, affiliation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the betrayal of Lily and James Potter, which led to their murders."

Once he had sorted out what had happened, Sirius began laughing. It was hysterical, insane laughter with an eerie quality to it.

_Oh, Peter you clever little rat. Or maybe you're just Lord Voldemort's tool. I wouldn't know. I've never served him._

He had no recollection of anything until he felt the Dementors. He was in a cell, in what he knew to be the wizarding prison of Azkaban from the moment he awoke. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were there. All the happiness had been sucked out of him, and he felt as though he was doomed to misery. He conjured up the image of the last time he had seen James, of his friend's laughing face, and muttered, "Expecto Patronum."

But he didn't have his wand. The playful dog that usually appeared wasn't there. He sank back against the cold, stone wall.

He was in the cell for three days before he was visited by a Ministry official. He came in bedecked in red robes, with a piece of official-looking parchment. He cleared his throat and began reading.

"You have been officially denied trial by Mr. Bartemius Crouch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement because of the severity of your crimes and the proof that has previously been submitted. As a result, you have been sentenced to life in Azkaban Wizarding Prison. Let it be known to all that you are a convicted mass murderer and are therefore unsafe and mentally insecure."

The door closed, and the wizard was gone.

"Wait!" Sirius screamed, pounding on the door, "I want to talk to Dumbledore! Let me see Dumbledore!"

But the wizard didn't answer.

Sirius collapsed against the wall and sank to the floor. Life in Azkaban. His best friend was dead, and his other best friend thought that it was his fault.

_Sirius, what have you done?_

Twelve years is a long, long time…


End file.
